


The Second Arrangement

by orphan_account



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Apocalypse, Buffy has a problem with British demons in black leather, Crossover, Gen, Post-Episode: s05e22 The Gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:32:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Buffy tries to stop a demon from robbing the Magic Box, she gets a little more than she bargained for...</p>
<p>“I’m the Slayer. The Chosen One. I think most of your kind have heard of me.”</p>
<p>“No, love, not cuz’ of your gig.” Crowley’s tongue flickered across his lips. He raised a finger to the sky. “I heard about you from Them.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Arrangement

Buffy filed her nails as she waited for the demon to appear. She would have rather been at the Bronze with Willow and Xander, indulging in what might be their last ever chance to party, but it was her duty to patrol. The Apocalypse was coming, again. Giles was bouncing around the stacks like a pinball these days, frantic that this might be the big one. The one they lose.

With one swift motion, Buffy swept the stick across her finger, cutting the nail to the quick. Damn. She was so on edge, even months later. Her whole world was cold and hard and different, and once again at risk. If she didn’t get the information she needed tonight…would any of it even matter?

_Nope, not doing this now._ Buffy shook her head clear. She would focus instead on how she would deal with this particular mark.

He probably wasn’t a vampire, since the last time she’d seen him was in broad daylight, lurking around the gas station and casually turning all the petroleum into tar. Death by stake was out of the question then but she had a gift for him all the same. Buffy reached into her pocket and stroked a clear bottle of Chanel no. 5, emptied and filled to the top with something far more dangerous.

A faint purr came from the darkness and the sound made the slayer stiffen, her joints aligning into pliable weapons of muscle and bone. She zeroed in on the car, a sleek Bentley, its motor singing as it pulled up next to the Magic Box. A beautiful, glossy thing in brimstone black. _Sexy_ , she thought. Then she walked up to the car and punched a hole through its window.

“How are we today, Mr. Lurk-y? ”

With one swift motion she yanked a figure through the broken glass and deposited him violently on the pavement.

The man flipped to his feet and shook himself angrily.

“Don’t touch the car,” he said, tongue flickering like a miniature whip.

Buffy went in for a punch but her target vanished and the only thing she made contact with was the Bentley. The ground came up to meet her. Sprawled on the ground, Buffy caught a glimpse of what she thought were a pair of green alligator boots. The demon loomed over her, his mouth quirked in an amused little smile. His eyes were unreadable under dark sunglasses.

Buffy whipped the perfume bottle out from under her jacket and when her opponent saw it, he gave what sounded like a hiss.

“I assume that’s...”  
“Holy water, yeah,” she said.

Buffy clicked her nail on the glass bottle and made a big show of sloshing the liquid from side to side. The demon blanched.

“Answer my questions and I won’t decide to freshen you up.”

“Very well,” he said, his voice this texture of fine leather. “I have all the time in the world. Which means I have next to no time whatsoever. Now what do you want?”

The slayer straightened herself up to full height and used one hand to dust off her denim jacket.

“First question, and this is important...What’s with the shades? It’s midnight. Are you undead Bono or something?”

The demon adjusted his glasses protectively.

“Second question... Who are you and what do you want?”

“That’s two questions,” the demon pointed out. “And you can call me Crowley.”

“Nice to meet you, Crowley. I’m Buffy. Now answer the other question or I’ll melt your arm off.”

“Buffy?”

The demon’s voice crackled with dark brown laughter.

“Yeah, Buffy. Is there something wrong with my name?”

“No, its great,” said Crowley. “I invented it actually. I get paid overtime every time a mother names her child Buffy! Also, Seymour. Do you know any Seymours?”

Buffy put her hand—the hand that wasn’t aiming the deadly perfume bottle—defiantly on her hip. “Buffy Summers,” she repeated. “It’s a good name.”

“Summers.”

Crowley halted laughing to bite his lip thoughtfully. And then he laughed harder. “Buffy Summers. Would you know, I actually have heard of you.”

“Yeah, I’m the Slayer,” she said. “The Chosen One. I think most of your kind have heard of me.”

“No, love, not cuz’ of your gig.” Crowley’s tongue flickered across his lips. He raised a finger to the sky. “I heard about you from Them.”

Buffy followed his gaze upwards and saw nothing. Just a stretch of rolling black, with no moon or stars. A warm California breeze brushed the back of her neck and she found herself shivering. The demon was grinning like a jack-o-lantern, but she still couldn’t see if his eyes were smiling as well.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“The Authorities up there. In Heaven.” He coughed to clear his mouth of the word before continuing. “The way I hear it, you died and managed to make it into the club, marked in the golden book and everything. Then one day you vanished. The higher ups just went mad trying to figure out where you’d gone. It was a witch spell, wasn’t it?”

“Stop.”

“Love a witch.”

“How do you know about that?”

Buffy’s mouth felt like it was coated with chalk. It made her want to slay the guy, information be damned.

“I have connections,” said Crowley. “Even supernaturals like to gossip over a cup of tea sometimes. Now I don’t blame you getting out while you could. It’s boring up there.”

“No, it was beautiful,” she said. “It was warm and comforting...but I can’t remember...” Buffy plunged around in her memory for an image to hold on to, but all she could recall was the feeling of it.

“You probably wouldn’t remember, I think that’s normal for cases like yours. You’ll just have to take my word for it then. Really, there is nothing to do up there but ride ponies and watch the _Sound of Music_ marathon. Who could stand an eternity of that?”

“Stop it,” she said, her lips trembling in anger. She could feel herself growing cold, personality shutting down in self-defense. The earth felt heavy under her feet. It was so much uglier than she remembered.

“I hear they have a swimming pool now but it doesn’t even have a diving board.”

“Shut up!” Buffy launched herself at Crowley with all of her slayer strength. Three feet in the air she looked intimidating, even to a demon, her wild round eyes and nostrils flared in anger. A roundhouse kick caught Crowley in the chest just before he could clear the way.

“You wouldn’t get it,” she said to the demon as he hit the ground. “You don’t know what it was like for me.”

“Losing your divinity?” he rasped. “You know, I think I understand how that would feel.”

Stalemate. For a long time neither of them said anything. They took some time to recover, Buffy examining her snapped nail while Crowley dusted off his suit. The warm wind continued to rush down the street but it was starting to smell more and more like sulfur.

Finally, Crowley checked his watch and sighed when he saw the time.

“I’m looking for the Book of St. Jasper the Gratuitous” he said. “Do you know where I can find it?”

“Yeah,” said Buffy defeatedly. “I think it’s in the shop. Giles won’t stop going on about the prophecies.”

“Exactly, so how about I do you a favor and take it off your hands?” Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want the book for?”

“It’s for a friend,” Crowley said innocently.

“Oh really? A friend?”

“I mean an enemy.”

“So why doesn’t your _friend_ come for the book himself?”

Crowley casually stretched his arms out in front of him, cracking his wrists and stretching each long finger. “We figured that once we found the book, it might need to be taken by force,” he said. “My friend is not so good with the force part. But I, on the other hand...”

“Not gonna happen,” said Buffy. “I’m asking nicely,” hissed Crowley.

They circled each other in the deserted street, a minuet between predator and prey, but it was hard to tell which was which at any given moment. Almost playfully, Crowley streaked past her to the door but Buffy answered with a well-placed spray of holy water. The puff of mist drifted three centimeters from Crowley’s face, and the demon reeled back. He ground his very sharp teeth in frustration.

“Listen,” he said, “this is important. We’re trying to save the world. If the Apocalypse does go down, I’m pretty sure you will have more to lose.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Oh wait, don’t tell me! You are a repentant demon who wants to save humanity and seek redemption. Please don’t say you have a soul too.”

“I am not repentant!” he huffed. “But I do want to help.”

She eyed Crowley carefully. The fact that he was smooth and accent-having and dressed all in black did not historically bode well for her, but she could sense that he had power. This was not the average demon that rounded out her weekly kill ratio. This guy knew things.

“You’re right,” she said. “Something big is coming. We already have a team working on it.”

“No offense, darling, but this is a little above your pay grade. If you value beer, shopping malls, or any kind of good music then you are going to want my help.”

Buffy ran her fingers through her hair as she considered this. On one hand, this could be an evil demon that was just waiting to massacre all of the Scoobies in their sleep. Then again, the world was going to end anyway, so maybe the chance was worth it. Buffy thought fleetingly how insane it was that she was the person responsible for making all of these decisions.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she said finally. “I can’t just give you the book, but I will let you talk it over with somebody who knows more about this stuff than I do. Meet me here tomorrow. I’ll share the prophecies and you will tell me everything that you know.”

“I’ll tell you the stuff that’s relevant,” said Crowley. “The rest of it you really don’t want to hear.” “Do we have a deal?” she asked.  
“Yeah, we do. You better follow through,” he said with a twinkling smile, “or I’ll bring back-up.”

Buffy nodded and pivoted on her stacked heel. She tried not to imagine what he was talking about as she huddled into her jacket. Even in the 90 degree heat, everyone in Sunnydale was starting to feel a nasty chill. In a few days that ominous cold would start to spread from the Hellmouth and infect the rest of the world, and after that, only God knew what knew what was in store.

Buffy sighed. This may be the stupidest alliance she had ever made with a demon, but it wouldn’t be the most painful. She would never forget the other one. She paused and called back over her shoulder, “Hey Crowley! How do I know I can trust you?”

In the darkness Buffy couldn’t see him shrug, so she went home without an answer. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work is now orphaned. Goodbye, my darling!   
> Sometimes it is SO hard trying to keep your username a secret from your friends IRL.


End file.
